My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World-Chapter 924 Rural Romance

Surely, this counted as a date now, right?

The set pieces were all there, and the story had practically written itself. Just Strip out the training segment, and in essence, you got the start and end point of something promising.

An escapade to a remote nature reserve. A hike through bountiful woods and winding river streams. Finally, come sundown, in the blanket of darkness, feeling the tingling chill of nightfall's breeze, taking refuge behind the timbered walls of a secluded cabin.

No, nothing can convince me there aren't any signs there. You'd either have to be blind or really stupid to miss it all. And fortunately, I'm only sometimes the latter.

Once we were indoors, everything inside was as you expected from a bundle of thick lumber just stacked together. Just your typical cabin-in-the-woods affair with ninety percent of its interior carved out of wood.

I found the switch right next to the doorway, which, once flicked on, transported us immediately into the dim orange glow of the late 1800s. The room itself had that lingering air of total neglect permeating every inch of the place.

Totally understandable though. Five-star presentation and service shouldn't be warranted for a couple of rule-breakers like ourselves. We'll make do with what we got.

I practically collapsed onto the couch as soon as its existence came into view. Something I'd learn to immensely regret not a moment after, coughing and blinking out the miasma of dust particles I made for myself.

Then, daring to open my eyes, I witnessed a bright spark from somewhere close. Irene was a few feet away huddled over by the fireplace, a puddle of soot and ash burying the tip of her heels. Her hand hovered over the empty pit, and at that moment, there was that spark again, an explosion of light that bled into the room and me shutting my eyes again for cover.

The warmth came not a second later, oozing, trickling, hitting my body in waves of rippling comfort. Embers sprinkled out of the mantlepiece, the crackle of burning wood within crunchy and oddly satisfying to the ears. Don't judge.

"Fire in your palm," I said. "See, that's the kind of thing I thought we'd be doing for my training."

"Hush," Irene stood up, flickering flames highlighting the softness in her expression. "All in due time."

She joined me on the couch, landing beside me and stirring up her own cloud of potentially airborne plagues. I waited until the air was breathable again before speaking.

"When's due time, then?"

"Impatience's annoying, you know?" She said, "But, fine—have it your way. We'll make this quick. Hold your hand out toward me."

"Now?"

"Your hand," she insisted, and before I could even twitch a finger, she seized my wrist and did the deed herself. "Okay. Now: conjure a small flame."

"Umm," I looked around helplessly for aid of some kind. "Instructions?"

"We've been over them," she said. "Focus. Determination. Intent. It's all the same. Like throwing a ball. Just manifest your magic, a tinge of emotion for potency, then burn the air."

"Burn the air?"

"Not as easy as it sounds, isn't it?" Irene looked at me like a mother in the middle of a lecture. "For now, just try. Shape that intent. Will it into being. I'll wait."

Step one and step two I had done loads of time before. The FDI process wasn't as much of a hassle as the hundred times before. But step three? The hell was this step three? Burn the air, what does that even…?

I focused. For a minute, I stayed focused, determined. I could feel the pressure in my head mounting at the effort, like a pipe one valve twist away from bursting. In my palm, I felt the tingle. That coalescing sensation when I reached the brink, when I'm almost there… but now what? What do I do with it now?

Burn the air. Shape that intent. Will it into being. Okay, alright…

Something flickered. Like the sparks from a lighter. I saw it, felt it, and…

"Fucking - what in the—?!"

I jumped. Hot, searing pain immediately rippled across my palm. I clenched it, shook it, blew on it. Felt like I just dunked my hand into bubbling lava or something.

"Everyone burns themself the first time," Irene said, not even batting an eye. "And also the second, the third, the fourth, fifth… hey, you still sure want to learn this soon?"

The pain was beginning to subside now, and foolish I had learned a hard lesson in patience.

"You're right," I said, still flapping my hand like a hummingbird on crack. "We'll do this at your pace. Won't try to change the timetable again."

"And that's still just rudimentary magic for your information," she said, emphasizing the 'rudimentary' part to get her point across. "You took three minutes just to get a little spark going. Can't imagine your opponent would be that patient."

I just nodded along. Never knew just how far out of my depth I actually was. When it came to magic, there seemed to be complexities woven into even greater complexities. Like, there was so much you seem to need to consider.

But on the other hand—Sammy. My darling little sister. How the hell did she pick it up so fast? Natural talent? Hard work through and through? Or does it have to do with who she originally had inherited from?

Maybe taking after Dad also came with the added benefit of an easier time with the whole process. Who knows? In any case, brooding on it wasn't gonna do me any favors.

"Just tell me one thing," I said. "This will get easier over time, won't it? Once I master the fundamentals, everything afterward will be smooth sailing more or less?"

"Still in a hurry? You can have another go at it if that's what you want."

"No, it's just…" my hand was still throbbing, clenching it tightly. "Yeah, you're right. I am rushing. I just… I really do feel like I need to do better, y'know?"

"Better for what?" Irene asked. "Better for me? for us?"

"For me too," I said. "I'm sick of worrying about things. In my head, always wrestling with the fear of whether I'm able to do something or not. If I'm able to protect you or not. Doubting myself all the time. Weak. I don't want to be that guy anymore. I want to be certain. I want to be strong."

Suddenly, I felt the pain in my palm immediately dissipate. Replaced by something softer, warmer, in gentle buzzes and soothing tingles. Irene had slithered her hand into mine, and she felt closer, the light of the night glimmering in her dark, hazel eyes.

"You've been strong," she said, manifesting words out of pure adoration. "You can't convince me you never were. You can be better, yes. Stronger. Much, much stronger, you will be. I know it. But you were never weak. Not once. Not ever. Don't you dare ever say that about yourself. Not you. Not to me. I won't let you. Understand me?"

There was nothing I could say to that. Or at least, nothing I could say that wouldn't offend her in any way. So I opted for the best possible choice and held my tongue.

That was when I felt another pull, a harder pull, and I felt my whole body be tugged along. The next thing I knew, my head had landed on a cushion of nothing but supple, blissful sensations and I was looking up, staring up again into Irene's eyes from above for what had to be the millionth time today.

I had to take a breath, and even that had my mind buzzing with amorous urges. And it's no wonder why at this position. At this angle… I mean… had her uniform always accentuated her figure this well?

"Trying to make me feel better?" I asked, feeling her thighs slightly squirm beneath me. "Well, for your information, it's working."

"Shut up, rest," she ordered, her cheeks faintly red. "Talk about something else."

"Like what?"

"Anything that doesn't have to do with demeaning yourself," she replied. "You'll only piss me off more if we stay on course."

Okay, yikes. I suppose that's one way to stop someone from breathing themselves up.

"Or you can just lay there, keep quiet," she said. "And let me enjoy myself."

"You?" I gave her a look. "Don't you mean me?"

"No," she replied. "Not at all."

After some reluctance, and test-touches, Irene began stroking my hair with her fingers. Light ruffles to start, before eventually picking up at pace into something that felt like a piece of heaven. Yet I couldn't help but notice how stiff she's gotten. As if she hasn't done this and much more already.

This went on for quite a while, and with each loving caress of her fingers, each running tingle down my spine, she just kept looking all the more restless and bothered.

"You look shy," I remarked.

"I'm not."

"Sure?"

"I said I'm not."

"Fine, you aren't," I said. "So why do you look like it?"

Irene didn't budge at first. But beneath my lingering gaze, or—above, actually—her walls cracked and crumbled.

"It's night, we're all alone in a cabin, the fireplace is glowing, and here you are, lying on my lap," she paused, pursing her lips. "There's some… suggestive connotations to those factors that I can't help but notice."

Look at that. Turns out I wasn't the only one seeing the countless waving flags of a romantic night out.

"What kind of connotations?" I innocently asked.

But she wasn't fooled.

"I think you know."

Yeah, I definitely did.

"And because of those… connotations…" she slowly continued. "It's making me think about doing some things…things that I'd really like to do with you."

"Oh…" I sniggered, unable to restrain the smirk on my face much to her infinite dismay. "Is it… is it my birthday already?"

Then, with our conversation in the woods afresh in our minds, Irene peered down at me, the buzz and tingles all around intensifying. Heat, a blazing magical warmth began to pervade the room. A much different kind of magical.

And softly, in a whisper, she asked me. "Would you like it to be?"

I never got the chance to answer. I had it on the tip of my tongue too, an almost desperate urge swelling in my throat. Shrinking, deflating, as loud intrusive knocks went and rattled the front door.

"I-Irene? Ms. Madison? It's me, Ken!" The ranger's voice resounded loudly between knocks. "I'm just here to check up on you. It's been a while! My job and all. Y-You like pizza? I brought pizza!"

I quickly sat back up, but Irene beat me to it. She rose up from the couch, heels clacking heavily against the floorboards as she headed toward the door.

"Chatty…" she grumbled, shaking her head and sighing. "Just had to be chatty…"

I felt her disappointment, that burning frustration. Always next time, I suppose. And hey, on the bright side: pizza.

I could go for some pizza.